


Penitent Lips

by gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Alien Sex, F/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 08:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/gaslightgallows
Summary: Lennier must do penance.





	Penitent Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Why? ...'cause! 
> 
> One more from the vault. S1, takes place between "Quality of Mercy" and "Chrysalis." 
> 
> If you're over on Tumblr, please consider following me at [gaslightgallows.tumblr.com](http://gaslightgallows.tumblr.com/) for more fic, reblogs about writing, and Professional Things I'm not allowed to mention on AO3. Thank you for reading and especially for commenting. Comments are love. ♥

Delenn found out about the bar fight, of course. In hindsight, Lennier realized, it was foolish to think that such a shameful reflection on her choice of aide could be kept from her for long. Commander Sinclair had kept his word; Lennier had that much for cold comfort. But if Delenn _had_ to find out about his less-than-complimentary behavior, he would have preferred that it be from his own penitent lips, rather than blurted out by Ambassador Mollari during a drunken celebration

"That _aide_ of yours, Delenn!" Londo spluttered gleefully, consumed with joy during a strange and highly profligate festival to honor the Centauri goddess Li. "That _aide_! Do you know, he has the best right hook I have ever seen? And the best poker face—next to my own, of course!" Delenn's eyes widened, but Lennier thought his own might pop out of his head from sheer horrified embarrassment. "Now if he could only learn how to bluff properly—whoop!"

Londo promptly fell off the table into a pile of discarded skirts. 

All around them, the music pulsed and throbbed insistently. Couples and groups of all compositions were taking themselves off to quieter corners of the feasting hall... or not bothering. Li was the goddess of passion, after all, not of prudence and modesty. Lennier had vague memories of similar music and similar acts, long ago in his boyhood, and indeed of a similar celebration once held at his clan's temple, observed through a crack between two walling stones by his much-younger self who properly ought to have been in bed. Not that anyone but Delenn would believe the story—most aliens thought their people were completely asexual. Vir Cotto, Londo's aide, even labored under a delusion that Minbari reproduced by budding, which no amount of denial on Lennier's part could make him believe was untrue.

Lennier averted his eyes from Ambassador Mollari's increasing dishabille, only to behold the commander engaged in an extremely intimate act with the surveying captain he had been keeping company with, and finally ended up gazing directly into Delenn's smoke-and-green eyes. They were even more hooded than usual, her posture more poised and rigidly correct than she normally enforced. When she took his arm, he felt the tension in her muscles—the trembling of her fingers that seemed to match the vibrato of his own bones. He swallowed, his throat very tight, and braced himself for a scolding. 

"I think," Delenn said, leaning close so that her warm, throaty voice could be heard under the music, "that it is time for us to go."

For a split second, Lennier felt disappointment. Then he gave himself a mental smack. What right had he to assume, even for a moment, that Delenn would... Her fingers tightened on his bicep, and to his shock, there was a distinct command in her pale eyes. "Of course, Delenn," he murmured, dipping his head respectfully, lowering his eyes away from hers lest he do something untoward, and too soon.

His quarters were closer, so that went in that direction, both of them walking with a calm purpose that, to others, appeared as little more than a brisk evening stroll between the ambassador and her student. But inside his own skin, Lennier felt ready to bolt. He knew what he had seen in Delenn's expression—what he thought for certain he had seen—but he wasn't sure what to expect when they reached his small, rarely used-quarters, until the door was securely closed behind them and Delenn had backed him up against a wall. 

"If you do not want this, Lennier, say so now."

He said nothing, only let out a sound like a strangled groan. Delenn slid her hands around the back of his neck and locked them there, pulling him down for a ferocious kiss.

The groan in Lennier's throat dropped into his chest and cascaded into an explosive thrum, the unmistakable sound of of a Minbari male's desire. Delenn drew away with a tiny smile. Lennier still said nothing, because now he could not speak for the rasping in his lungs. He could only gaze at her, dark eyes burning. 

Delenn's smile deepened. "Mmm," she hummed thoughtfully, stroking his cheek. He rolled his cheek against her smooth, warm palm, his eyes sliding closed, his lips parting as he struggled to breathe. "Mmm..." She drew him close and kissed him again, more slowly this time, cupping his face in her hands, stroking his jaw with her thumbs as she tasted him.

Lennier felt himself falling, falling deliciously, but to keep himself upright he caught Delenn about her slender waist, and hung on. She moved her hands from his jaw to his throat, replaced her hands with her lips on his stuttering pulse, laid her fingers on the smooth scales and the smoldering blue at the top of his spine, and touched him with sure pressure. Lennier arched his back sharply, moaning her name. "If you want to stop, Delenn," he managed, his voice a hoarse shadow of its normal cool steadiness, "say so now. Further than this—"

"Further than this, I will not want to stop. And I do not plan to let you," she added, a tiny growl in her smirk. The sound undid Lennier enough to make him lean forward and press his lips to her neck, kissing, suckling, tasting her skin. He nipped her by accident, making her gasp aloud, and it almost brought him back to himself, in horror, ready to apologize... "Lennier," she mewled, clutching at the fabric covering his shoulders. His heart and lungs seemed to get all mixed up in his ribs at the sound, but he needed to hear it again. He dragged his teeth lightly up the line of her neck to the small shell of her ear, and ran his tongue in one quick motion along the underside of her glorious crest. Delenn gasped again, groaning, digging her nails into his back. 

Somewhere far away, Lennier heard the cloth of his jacket tear.

There was no more delicacy now, no more light touches. She gripped the fabric of his robes with hands and teeth and tore at it; the warm air of his quarters hit Lennier's hotter skin and made him gasp and shake as though buffeted by a winter wind. He saw a brief glimpse of Delenn's admiration of his lean arms and chest before she was back in his arms, devouring his mouth and his neck, pressing her whole body against his and thrusting her hands down the back of his trouser, digging her fingers into his rump. His own hands scrabbled for purchase on her silkier garments until at last, with one of Delenn's palms cupping the mound of his groin and the other teasing between his buttocks, he simply pulled at whatever he could find, dragging handfuls of the slippery material and clawing at it until it went away.

Her small breasts on his chest were not enough; Lennier spun her against the wall and held her there, his hands pressed to her shoulders, and dipped his head to taste the soft white flesh. Delenn moaned out her approval, holding his crest in both hands and muffling her pleasure against his head. Still not enough. He closed his mouth around a nipple and slid his hand down her belly. She was still wearing a thin underskirt, thin undergarments, but he ignored them both, pushing them away and seeking blindly with his smooth, sensitive scholar's fingers until he found the line of her, warm and wet. He passed his fingertips quickly over her; Delenn stiffened, making a sound as though she was biting her lips to keep from crying out too loudly. 

Lennier thrummed hard against her breast and pushed his fingers inside her.

This time she did cry out, sharp and breathless, one word: _“Please.”_ She clenched her muscles around his hand as he thrust, letting him feel her as deeply as she felt him, moaning and _whimpering_ , her fingers curling into his crest until he was certain she would leave permanent marks. Growling out a chuckle, Lennier moved his lips from her nipple to the fuller flesh of her breast and worked to leave a mark on her, teeth and lips and breath. There was a note of pain in Delenn's gasps but he didn't stop, not until she threw her head back and let out a long, wavering cry that he was certain would be heard all the way back on the home world. 

Her legs trembled violently. Lennier slipped his free arm quickly around her back and held her close. He pressed a soft, laving tongue to the mark he had made and then kissed her cheek, while his fingers, still within her, made gentle strokes against her flesh as she came down from her climax. 

At last, Delenn lifted her face from where she had buried it in his scalp. She stared at him a long time, her eyes glazed and startled. Then she blinked, and gave him a half-smile. "First a lie, Lennier," she murmured, glancing down at the red rosette blossoming on her breast, "and now such a wound?"

He tensed, suddenly wary. Delenn placed a slim finger on his lips, a hungry promise behind the sweetness in her eyes. "How shall you do penance?"

Lennier thought briefly of pinning her back against the wall and finishing what he had begun... But this would be so much better. "However you see fit, Delenn," he answered instead, voice hoarse but steady. 

She laughed at his obedience, low in her throat, a queenly sound of satisfaction, and stroked his chest fondly, just the tips of her fingers trailing around the edges of the narrow plate of bone that protected his sternum, before dropping down to the hem of his trousers. "Take those off." Then quickly, she stopped his hands, covering them with her own. "Look at me," she corrected, with infinite gentleness, "and take those off."

Amazingly, Lennier felt his cheeks flush. After what had just passed between them, he had thought he was done with blushing forever, but all it took was a soft word and a soft touch from Delenn, and he was once more as shy and stuttering as he had been when first he had looked up into her eyes. "Yes, Delenn," he whispered, working hard to hold her eyes as he slide the waistband over his slim hips. He let the garment fall the rest of the way. 

"Step back."

He did so, a few paces. Delenn put one hand on her cheek and the other hand on her hip, and looked at him. There was a tiny smile on her lips and a thoughtful expression in her ghostly green eyes, and though his face was as hot as his back, Lennier looked resolutely back, drinking in the vision of her slim, supple form, the pale blue flare low on her abdomen and groin a match for his own. He could still feel her around his fingers. Unthinking, he raised his hand to his lips and licked. 

All in an instant, Delenn's calm vanished. The cool queen blazed up into something more primal, and she had his feet out from under him and his back on the floor and had straddled his hips almost before Lennier had time to blink. She stretched herself out on his chest, her hot groin grinding against his own; the taunting pressure actually brought tears to Lennier's eyes. Delenn took his wrists and pinned them lightly over his head, and laid her lips beside his ear. "Well? How do I taste?"

Lennier said the only thing he could. _"Oh..."_

She nipped the shell of his ear, and chuckled. "Shall I taste you, hmm? So we can compare the two?" She shifted slightly to one side, released one of his wrists and trailed her nails over his ribs and hipbone a few times before cupping the discreet mound of his groin, seeking him out as he had sought her, stroking the line of his slit gently. The delicate touch made Lennier flinch; his hips bucked of their own volition. 

"Delenn, _please..._ " 

She gave him a pointed look. "You are doing penance, Lennier. You must wait." 

He swallowed hard, eyes wide and staring, frightened and completely trusting. She slipped her fingers just inside his slit, skimming the moist walls and barely brushing the head of his organ, straining against the lip. She brought her fingers to her lips and sucked them thoughtfully. Lennier didn't even bother trying to bite back his groan. "Hmm... What do you think? Who tastes better?"

He licked hungrily at her hand. "You do," he said, barely noticing himself and tasting only her skin.

"Hmm. I disagree." Delenn descended down his body, spread his thighs wide and then proceeded to touch him until he was nothing more than a quivering bundle of nerves. She slipped her tongue under the lip of his slit and freed his shaft, sucking it firmly until he was almost ready to come and then retreating, finding the tight passage just at the top of the slit and gently moving first one finger and then two into the muscular channel, while her other hand sank into the deep bottom of the slit to thrust hard into his body. Lacking pillows or blankets, Lennier bit into his arm to muffle his hoarse ecstasies until he bled. Then he simply lay back and moaned, cried, sobbed in delirious abandon. 

When at some indeterminate point in time Delenn left off her ministrations, Lennier barely noticed. She had set his body afire and it would be hours before he could no longer feel the imprint of her hands and lips and teeth on his skin. From far away, he heard her move away from his thighs... only to return her hands to his shoulders, her lips to his, as she carefully sheathed him within her body. "Delenn..."

"Ssh," she murmured, kissing him tenderly, taking his limp arms and pulling them around her. "You are forgiven." 

He had no energy left, no control over his own body except what he had given her, but as she moved over him slowly he felt as though she was giving it all back. His arms tightened around her and he returned her kisses with increasing urgency, his hips rising to meet her thrusts. "Have you sins against me, Delenn?" he growled softly, rolling them over and crushing her smaller body to the floor with infinite gentleness. "Shall I make you do penance?" He stopped, holding perfectly still until she whimpered, and then drove into her with one deep, sure thrust.

Delenn rasped out his name, digging her fingers into his arms. 

"Shall I?"

"Yes..."

He buried his face in her throat and shoulder and ground hard, thrusting, pounding, until his thrums gave way to an agonized cry of release. 

Lennier struggled to breathe, his thrums sticking in his lungs. The very fibers of his body threatened to shred, and would have, he was convinced, if it had not been for Delenn's arms locked around him, slim and strong. "That," he said when he could finally speak, "seems a very great penance for so small an infraction."

He meant nothing much by it; it was simply the first thing that came into his shattered brain. Delenn laughed softly, moving her hands up his arms to caress his cooling back, and to stroke the smooth line of iridescent scales that snaked down his spine. She, at least, was still in control of all her faculties. "It seems a little late to complain now."

He started to protest that he had not meant to complain... and then smiled. "True. But perhaps I could add to the infraction... with your permission. To balance things out."

She looked at him with a half-curious, half-calculating expression, trying to divine what he planned. At last, though, Delenn nodded. 

Lennier kissed her briefly, then slowly, with soft lips and soft fingertips, made his way down her body, passing reverent hands over her breasts. He trailed his cheek down her belly, feeling her against his face. He closed his eyes, listening to the blood slipping beneath her skin, and inhaling the scent of himself mingled with her. He moved lower, and settled himself between her legs. When his tongue touched her, he heard Delenn's breath catch in the back of her throat.

He drank deeply of her, suckling the tired flesh of her sex and darting his tongue inside her folds. Sliding his hands beneath her rump, Lennier pressed closer, burying himself almost up to the nose, licking and teasing, relishing Delenn's little gasps and sighs, so unlike her earlier anguished pleasures. At last, she shuddered hard and slumped against his hands, quietly overwhelmed. 

Lennier ghosted back up her body and gathered her into his arms, nuzzling her temple softly. "How was that?"

"Mmm... wonderful." Her eyes had returned to their half-lidded expression of earlier, but now they were lazy and sated rather than lustful. Delenn relaxed easily into his embrace. "Though perhaps not quite the sin you were hoping."

He let out a little sigh. "Ah, well. I shall just have to try again." Delenn turned a slow gaze up at him. "With your permission, of course."

"I consent freely... provided we move to your bed first." 

Even from a half-sitting position, with his arms full of his ambassador, Lennier managed a respectful little bow. Then he picked Delenn up and carried her easily to his bedroom.


End file.
